


Nice N' Easy

by Lady_Kale



Series: I Choose You Every Time (Watch Me Prove it) [3]
Category: Heathers: The Musical - Murphy & O'Keefe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Drugs, Dubious Morality, Gen, High School, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Kinda, One Shot, Other Additional Tags to Be Added
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-04
Updated: 2017-12-04
Packaged: 2019-02-10 17:55:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,794
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12917166
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lady_Kale/pseuds/Lady_Kale
Summary: The Heathers have a bigger issue to deal with then Martha Dumptruck's presence at Ram's party.





	Nice N' Easy

**Author's Note:**

> AU.   
> Trigger warnings: Abuse, Drugs, people trying to save their own ass.  
> Sometimes, there isn't a right choice in a difficult situation.

Chandler was getting worried. It had been well over an hour since she’d seen Veronica Sawyer, and the place was absolutely packed.

She grimaced, knowing the smaller girl had a problem with both crowds of people and loud noises. At this point, she’d almost bet that the girl was having a panic attack in a closet somewhere. “Fan-fucking-tastic.”

First she found McNamara, flirting with some jock - she couldn’t recall the guy's name so he couldn’t have been too popular. “Veronica?” Chandler asked without really asking - not wanting to cause a scene or make it look like she had lost control.

The sudden concern is Mac’s eyes was answer enough. “Duke was by the pool,” she offered instead.

“Hm - ‘kay.” Chandler shrugged. “Get water, we’re leaving in an hour or so.”

Duke was _actually_ in the kitchen, (twenty minutes later) mixing some obscure cocktail. “If it isn’t the almighty,” she drawled upon seeing the blonde. “How can we humble serfs aid your holy cause?”

Thankfully they were in private, or Chandler might have had to beat her drunk ass to save face. “Cut it out, moron. We’ve got a problem.”

“You have more problems than Oedipus.”

She chose to ignore that comment. “How long has it been since you’ve seen Veronica?”

And just like that, Duke became an entirely different person. “Shit!” She startled upright, adrenaline working to flood the alcohol out of her system. “I told you it was a bad idea to bring her! That girl has serious issues, Heather!”

“Don’t be such a pillowcase. Just help me find her!” On some level, she knew there was something not-quite-right with Veronica Sawyer. The girl was edgy and secretive, often jumping away from personal contact like she’d been burned. But she was _smart_ too - always a witty retort ready to downplay whatever knee-jerk reaction had caught the Heather’s eye. It worked more often than Chandler was willing to admit in this moment. (Even though she was _well past_ the point of admitting this entire party had been a fucking terrible idea.)

They moved out of the kitchen side by side. “Heather will be sweeping down here by now.” 

“Well, there _are_ more rooms upstairs anyway,” Duke was already headed for the staircase. “Have you tried calling her?”

Chandler froze for half a second, before fumbling in her pocket. “Shit, shit, shit.” She hadn’t added Veronica to her speed dial _or_ favorites yet, so she was left scrolling through contacts. “Ha!” She pressed the call button.

It went straight to voicemail. “Goddamnit!”

Well, at least she had a to-do list for the foreseeable future. Step one: find Sawyer. Step Two: sneak back into respective houses. Step Three: get that girl a proper phone and not that antique piece of crap.

That was when Duke came racing down the stairs, brown eyes wide with panic.

“Upstairs!” She shouted, shouldering her way down the hall, causing _exactly_ the type of scene Heather had been trying to avoid. “She’s in the bathroom!”

Something in Heather Duke’s voice, in her panic, made wings grow on Chandler’s heels. She was up the stairs in record time, slamming open the bathroom door half a blink later. And then - then she froze, not quite able to process what she was seeing.

Veronica Sawyer was huddled on the floor between the toilet and the tub. Her sapphire blue jacket was ripped at the sleeves, stained with red and brown. Likewise, her top was ripped to shreds, hanging off of her shoulders. She was also missing one shoe - part of Heather’s mind noted dimly.

But it was the mottled colors across her chest - the bruising along her ribs, the blood from her nose and _Oh my god “Veronica!”._ She yelped the smaller girl’s name, stumbling forward to do … something? What did she need to do? What _could_ she do?

She froze again at the site of the girls eyes, pupils blown and lopsided, glazed and unfocused. Now that look? That look she knew all too well. The girl had been drugged. _“... fuck.”_

Duke burst back into the room, glass sloshing in one hand. “She needs to drink this!” Together they forced the concoction of salt and water down the girl’s throat.

The effect was almost immediate.

Veronica Sawyer vomited the contents of her stomach all over Heather Chandler’s shoes.

* * *

Unknown to the Heathers, Martha Dunnstock arrived downstairs - bottle of sparkling cider in hand.

* * *

A week ago, if you had told Heather Chandler that she would be _kneeling in a pool of puke,_ she would have laughed you straight out of the school district. As it was, she was a bit preoccupied at the moment. “No you, _pillowcase._ ” She snarled at Duke. “We are not _calling the police._ ”

“For fucks sake, Heather!” Duke was standing on the other side of the bathroom, eyeing the bile nervously. Understandably, Heather Duke did not do well around vomit. It was a testament to her character that she was still in the room at all. “We don’t know how much she ingested!”

McNamara, who had joined them only a few moments ago, looked torn. “I think we should take her to the hospital.”

“Did you have a brain tumor for breakfast? Look at her!” Chandler had stripped off her own coat to drape over Veronica’s shoulders. So far, she was the only one the brunette hadn’t flinched away from. It was a very disconcerting feeling for all of them.

“We _are_ looking, Heather. She needs help.”

Veronica flinched again, huddling into the red leather like it would turn her invisible. She was shaking now and it scared Chandler to her core.

It took a moment to find her voice. “And when they file a report? She’s a _minor-_ ” She cut Duke’s protest off. “They will have to file a report if we take her. Do you know what that will do? She’s applied early admission to Stanford for Christ sake! The investigation alone-”

But Duke wouldn’t budge. “I really _don’t care_ what this will do to her college prospects-”

“You should!”

_“Heather!”_ Duke shouted her down. “We are out of our league here. She needs help. Professional help.”

“Do we actually know if she got … you know?” McNamara was fiddling with the ends of her hair nervously. “Because if no one touched her - there isn’t really a case, right? We wouldn’t have to take her anywhere.”

“... are you fucking kidding me?” “The fuck, Heather!”

Heather McNamara drew herself upright, face unusually serious. “Our names will be on those reports as well. Not to mention the investigation they’re bound to launch. What about _our_ future prospects? I’m being scouted by UCLA for Cheer next week. I don’t want this on my record either!”

“You literally just said we should take her to the hospital.” Duke was practically vibrating with rage. “What changed in thirty seconds?”

“Am I not allowed to protect myself-”

Chandler had had enough. _“Shut up!_ Both of you!” She took a deep breath, forcing back the instinct to also vomit. “We’ll do what Veronica wants us to do.” A dark look stopped all further arguments from the two Heathers. “Well?” Veronica’s blue eyes were still struggling to focus, but they were a hundred times better then when they’d first found her. “Hospital or home, Sawyer?”

Of all the possible scenarios she planned out for tonight: drunk Veronica, high Veronica, Veronica making an ass of herself or embarrassing them - this? This had not remotely crossed her mind. She found that she wasn’t quite ready to deal with the consequences - after all it was _Chandler_ who had forced Veronica to come. It was _Chandler_ who made her a Heather - It was _Chandler_ \- 

“No.”

She almost missed the quiet voice, shaky and broken.

“No.” Veronica said again, this time a little louder. “Just - Just give me a few minutes and I’ll be fine.”

Silence. Absolute silence followed the brunette’s remarks. The heavy, oppressive, take-the-words-out-of-your-mouth kind of silence.

“... Veronica,” Duke choked out.

There was as shudder and a breath. “Can you guys - “ she paused, throat bobbing. “Give me some space to clean up?” Blue eyes lifted, still foggy, but now a fire seemed to burn within their depths. The shock was wearing off and Veronica was rebuilding her armor at an astonishing rate.

And, for the first time that night, Heather Chandler remembered that they weren’t _actually_ friends.

At best, Veronica tolerated the Heathers.

She didn’t _like_ them; didn’t trust them.

And for the first time that realization _hurt._

“Let me drive you home at least,” Duke’s offer was weak, defeated. She’d probably come to the same realization that Chandler had. Despite how responsible they felt for the situation, Veronica didn’t want them here. It was like swallowing something too hot - it stung in the eyes, burned down the throat and created a gnawing pit in her stomach.

Veronica was shaking her head again, but the movement threw her off balance and Chandler lunged to catch her.

For a moment everyone froze - Duke sitting on the bathroom sink, McNamara leaning against the door and Veronica half sprawled in Chandler’s lap.

Then Chandler gave a mental _fuck it,_ (possibly also a verbal one based off the odd looks), and pulled herself and Veronica into the bathtub and out of the puke. She tried, _tried_ to be gentle - tried to keep her hands where Veronica could see them - tried not to get too close. But Veronica had other ideas, nearly ragdolling in her arms and tucking close.

Heather was too scared to be annoyed. Too scared to be grossed out by the blood that she was now also covered in. Too scared to notice anything except things that scared her _more._

Like the fact that Veronica _should not be this light._ Or that some of those bruises were several _weeks_ old, some of them _days_ and even _more_ were fresh. Or the thin little scars that lined the sides of her stomach.

Mostly, she tried to ignore how, in the light of this new evidence, Veronica Sawyer suddenly _made sense._

“Not home either,” she agreed softly, having settled the other girl against her. The sudden rigidity of her spine and painful grip on Heather’s waste told her that she was right in her assumptions. “McNamara will go cause a distraction and Duke will bring the jeep around the back,” she eyed each Heather as she gave the order. “You and I will sneak out and go to my place. Okay?”

For a long time, Veronica didn’t say anything. Long enough that Heather became uncertain of her ability to hold them upright, and _most certainly_ long enough for her subconscious to start a small war on morality and legality. But eventually, the brunette nodded from her place buried under Heather’s chin. “Okay” she rasped.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not sure whether to leave well enough alone or to continue this. *shrugs*  
> Opinions?
> 
> As always - I apologize for any mistakes.


End file.
